


lightning strikes (maybe once, maybe twice)

by dancingthru



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bisexual Kara Danvers, Established Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, F/F, I promise this is 100 percent Supercorp, Identity Reveal, giving all these idiots some goddamn resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingthru/pseuds/dancingthru
Summary: mon-el looks back. kara and lena look forward. somehow, all three find their peace.





	lightning strikes (maybe once, maybe twice)

**Author's Note:**

> Lol idk what fever dream this fic concept came to me from but I decided to give it a shot and here we are. I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I was really fascinated by the idea of giving all three characters a version of happiness and resolution. Please don't come for me if you hate Mon-El!

_"And her memory is all that is left for you now."_

_one._

The first time, he swears, he does it by accident.

Mon-El’s with a new team and a new navigator, which is how they end up in the 21st century rather than the 28th century. He comes half a second away from chewing the kid out, or tossing him into the atmosphere, but when he turns around with his jaw clenched and a rant on the tip of his tongue, he’s met with a ducked chin and a whole head full of ginger curls that dip down in embarrassment. He remembers being inept once, too, and the goofy charm of forgiveness in the form of a forced smile.

“Okay.” He rubs his forehead. “Let’s give this another go in a bit.”

And then he can’t help it. He _wonders_. It’s not like he still loves Kara, or like he even wants to see her, necessarily. He knows the hurt that will bring, to himself but more importantly to her. He doesn’t want to relive that moment, when she saw him and her whole face seemed to fracture, that once-perfect smile cracking in two. He doesn’t want to try to talk or catch up — after all, what would he even say? How’s the hero-ing in this century? Still plenty of bad guys? 

But still, he needs to know. That she’s okay, that’s she’s safe. That she’s happy.

It feels a little stupid. It’s just that you don’t ever stop feeling for someone. You stop loving someone, stop being infatuated with them, stop craving their kiss or their smile or their laugh. But you never stop that _feeling_ , the one that bears down and crawls its way into your gut and clings on long past the the fading of all the fun parts. The feeling stays, and not even the distance of ten centuries can change that.

So he pulls his cape tighter around his throat, adjusting it slightly as he hardens his voice and barks out commands to his second to man the ship while he dips out for a moment.

For a moment, Mon-El just revels in the sensations of flying. It never gets old, tumbling for a moment into a free fall before righting himself. He does the math and figures out where he is in Kara's timeline, then discerns that it's around 8 a.m. and centers himself over Noonan's. By his calculations, there's almost a perfect probability that Kara will need a latte within the next hour.

He's right on the money. Less than 20 minutes later, the door opens and Kara spills out, a cup in either hand, a tan overcoat tugged up taut around her black turtleneck to ward off the autumn chill in the air. She pauses, glances over her shoulder, sticks her foot back to prop open the door, and Lena appears behind her, speaking animatedly and waving her hands around as Kara nods a little too energetically, turning to fully face her friend as they continue a conversation.

Mon-El smiles, watching them do something so mundane, so normal. He knows he could listen, but he decides to let it be, let the moment be vague, without details. The one thing he wants most for Kara, especially now, was the ability to have an average, spectacular morning. He knew how deeply she craved the normalcy of coffee runs and dates with friends and as long as she could have moments just like this, she would be happy, even when she was forced to put the world on her shoulders time and time again.

Then Kara says something that makes Lena roll her eyes, and then grabs the front of Kara's coat and tugs her closer, and then Kara is balancing both of the coffees even when she swallows up Lena's comeback with a kiss, and then another, and then another and— 

He almost falls out of the sky.

For a moment, Mon-El's chest is gripped with something softer than jealousy. Shock, maybe? Surprise, for sure. This wasn’t anything they had talked about, and nothing he had noticed between Kara and her best friend had ever tipped him off that she might feel like this towards Lena. He wonders for a moment if he was really that daft, really that _thick_ , back when he was new to Earth and new to falling in love and bad at being anything close to a balanced person. 

And then Kara tips her head a little, craning her neck down to get in some little quip. Lena’s lips curl up at the edges, and in return Kara’s face breaks open in that full smile, the one that could probably power a miniature yellow sun of its own. It's familiar, that look, the way her eyes crinkle up at the edge, go a little foggy around the irises. Mon-El can only grin, shake his head at himself, already feeling the contact high of being anywhere near Kara's smile.

Yeah. He really was that dumb. Because Kara has always looked at Lena like that.

Mon-El flies back to the ship without a look over his shoulder. He's already gotten the answer to his question.

_two._

It's just a drop in along the way, but Mon-El has some hell of a knack for timing.

He's on a mission, and he figures he'll take a second to see how Kara is doing since it is, after all, on the way. It's been a few years and he's curious and— well, he doesn't need an excuse to see if an old friend is doing alright. Right?

But now he's hovering over Kara's rooftop, where Lena appears to be attempting to give her a heart attack. Or something.

He could hear the fight from the stratosphere, literally from the moment that he entered orbit, and before he could discern the content he had been genuinely concerned enough to plummet headfirst into the airspace over National City.

And then— well, then he regretted that decision almost immediately.

"Don't treat me like I'm a child."

"But what you're saying is _ridiculous_ I can't—"

"You can't just tell me the truth?"

"I can lie to you if you want—"

" _Take off the goddamn glasses Kara._ "

They're practically toe to toe, Lena doing her best to lean up all the way into Kara's space, the blonde's fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of her cardigan. If he had to guess by body language alone, it looked like they were about two seconds away from Lena clocking Kara square in the jaw.

Mon-El knows he's intruding, knows he should turn and leave as quick as he came. But then the next thing he knows, Lena is taking off her heels and marching towards the edge of the roof, and Kara is just standing there slack jaw as she clambers up onto the ledge overlooking the city, the one that Kara has apparently landscaped completely with flowers. She turns around and the blaze in her eyes is fuming with anger and, a little deeper down, desperation.

"Oh, come _on_ Supergirl."

But Kara just stares, and stares, even as Lena takes a step back, hands shaking. Then she glances over her shoulder, sucks in a breath, and falls.

It's ridiculous. Lena falls the way that humans do, hurtling blindly toward the ground, head over heels. And Kara, of course, doesn't hesitate. Not for a second. Not when it's Lena. She's over the edge, wrapping Lena in her arms before she even has time to scream, tugging her up and clutching her against her chest and floating back to safety in a handful of seconds.

There's a few ways he imagined the next few moments going. If it was _him_ he can imagine a fair amount of yelling, and maybe Kara would threaten to drop him back over the edge of the building again just to prove a point. With the small amount of information he has on Lena, he expects even worse — maybe she'd storm off to brood in her literal ivory tower, or maybe she would yell at Kara until her throat went a little numb for the years worth of lies. Maybe she'd actually wind up and try to throw a punch. That one would be interesting.

Mon-El waits, because he is — as Winn has so tactfully put it to him before — a tiny bit of a "hoe for drama." Just a bit.

So he waits to see which of those options might come true. He doesn't expect the reality of it.

He doesn't expect Kara, alighting as gently as possible, her arms a vice around Lena, refusing to let go. He doesn't expect for Lena to cling too, for Lena to press her face to Kara's throat long after her gasps have smoothed out, for her fingers to tangle in Kara's hair and for Kara's arms to curl to pull Lena even tighter. He doesn't expect for them to both _give_.

"That was- you were-"

"Super?"

He doesn't expect Lena to laugh. He doesn't expect Kara to gently let Lena's feet touch back to the ground, or for Lena to keep her arms tight on Kara's shoulders, not moving from where she was held before. Without her heels, Lena is visibly smaller than Kara, enough so that the blonde stoops when she cradles Lena's face, gently nudging her head out of the crook of her neck just enough to make eye contact.

"I did this to protect you."

"I know."

"I never wanted to lie to you."

" _I know_."

"Then why-"

"You were just such an idiot about it."

Kara scoffs, her eyes widening in a comic version of hurt, and Lena rolls her eyes.

"The glasses?"

Another laugh, and then Kara is kissing the words away, mumbling apologies into her lips.

"I'm a-" Kara's hands slip to her rib cage "-doctorate holding _genius_ -" Lena tugs her hair lightly, scratches as her scalp with her left hand "-and you thought the _glasses_ -"

"I'm sorry." She kisses every word of complaint away. "I love you. I'm sorry."

Lena pulls away finally, and there's a smirk filling her features as her eyebrow quirks.

"Make it up to me?"

There's a sense of tranquility again when Mon-El leaves. That life might be better now, for both of them, in both of their centuries. That maybe they both found their own version of peace.

_three._

This time, it's quick. Quiet. He feels really weird about it, because it _is_ pretty weird, but also it's not his fault that Kara's loft has so many windows that are super easy to hover outside of just to check in. Besides, he's only here for a fly by, just a quick check to see how things are before he heads _way_ back for the next mission. Five minutes, tops.

The loft is lit by the glow of the television, but whatever's onscreen has been forgotten. Kara is tucked into the corner of the couch, her head slumped down into her palm, her elbow propped up on the arm of the sofa. Lena is blanketed on top of her and wrapped under an arm, wearing a university sweatshirt and a pair of joggers, and Mon-El is shocked because he's never seen her this _relaxed_. 

(Not that he knew her all that well, but still. It's disarming, and he's surprised by the small swell of affection that pulses in his chest.)

There are bracelets on both of their wrists, a light silver that seems to glow with some sort of blue energy, pulsating lightly. Mon-El recognizes them from before, from _home_ , from a lifetime ago, and that feeling builds a little bigger, a little fiercer in his chest.

Something happens — maybe onscreen, maybe elsewhere in the city — and Kara stirs. She lifts her head, and her face is bleary, so fuzzy with sleep. Then she looks down at Lena, and her whole being _glows_. (Mon-El thinks he sees her float for a moment, just a millimeter off the couch, but he isn't sure.) Her smile is small, not shy but just gentle, as she runs her fingers through Lena's hair. She looks around, fumbles for the remote and plunges the room into near-black darkness before scooping up Lena from the couch.

Lena stirs, mumbles something, and Kara responds. Whatever she says makes Lena laugh, low and rumbly, but Mon-El doesn't listen. This moment is just for them.

Those five minutes are up. He leaves happy. It's a heavy feeling in his chest, but it's easy enough to carry.

_(four.)_

He has to go to the wedding.

He doesn't give himself any time to second guess his decision. Just takes the ship and the navigator whose hair is cut short now. Tells him the year, tells him the day, knows he can trust them to come out at the right second, if need be.

When Mon-El puts on the tux, the kid cocks an eyebrow at him. He glares back, hopes it's intimidating. He knows it's not, but the kid doesn't say anything.

He touches down outside the wedding and wonders if its a mistake. He does have an invitation, delivered courtesy of the Legends, but still. Maybe it was a formality. Kara never failed to be kind, after all. 

Alex sees him first, and then he _really_ wonders if this is a mistake, because if anyone could kick his kind-of-superhero ass on a wedding day, it would be the older Danvers. He hesitates, mouth falling open, hoping that his weak puppy dog smile has gotten at least a little more convincing than it used to be.

Then Alex is all over him, pulling him into a hug that's a little too hard and a little too boney and — "My god Alex are you packing heat at this wedding?" he yelps — but it's perfect because he can feel her smile where she tucks her face into his neck.

"I'm so glad you _came_." Alex breathes it out, and Mon-El feels himself melt slightly, as if the worry he'd been holding had frozen his shoulders and it was finally relaxing in a slight slump. "We were worried you wouldn't be able to make it."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he mumbles.

And it's true. As he sits at the end of the pew holding all the people who love Kara most in the world, he can't imagine being anywhere else. Can't imagine missing the way that Kara's hands clench until her knuckles are white when she sees Lena walk down the aisle for the first time. The way her fingertips dance across her face, her jaw, her neck as she pushes back her veil, the way her eyes light up with something even deeper than awe, as if she can't believe that this is real, needs her touch on Lena to make this solid, tangible.

It truly hits him when they say their vows. Neither of them need notes, although Nia is prepared at Lena's shoulder with a small white cloth, because the dark-haired woman cries before she gets the first syllable out and grabs it furtively, dabs at her eyes and still somehow manages to avoid smudging her makeup.

What they share is something deeper than their vows can convey. That's clear enough in the way they laugh, in the way they run out of words, in the way that Kara, at one point as she attempts to describe the ways she loves Lena, just breaks completely, holding up her hands as if to gesture to Lena with a strangled noise that somehow everyone in the room understands. Their eyes never flicker away from one another, and J'onn can barely get out the words "you may kiss" before Kara's arms are wrapped tight around Lena's waist, her mouth heavy against Lena's, their lips breaking apart almost immediately from their too-wide smiles, murmuring into each other.

It bowls him over and Mon-El feels the tears welling up before he can even prepare for them. He looks to Alex at her place at Kara's shoulder, and her eyes are watery too, and when she sees him she smiles and they both laugh, maybe at the ridiculous perfection of it all.

He waits. Through the reception, through the toasts, through all the dances. Mon-El stays to the side because— well, because that's his job at this thing, anyways. That's everyone's jobs. To stay to the side and let the brides have their day of bliss and try not to be a pain.

But eventually, Kara finds him, a glass of champagne — well, it's not quite champagne, or at least he's never seen a version that glows quite like that — in each hand, extending it with a grin as she tugs him close to her.

"I'm so happy you're here."

She says it, and he knows. She says it, and something presses in his chest, a question answered, a weight lifted for the first time in God knows when. She says it and Mon-El feels like he could fly.

Because there's no doubt in her eyes. No pain, no questions of love lost. Kara smiles at him and there's not even the hint of a flicker or a waver. The only thing on her face is joy, the type that Kara always seems to feel more unabashedly, more deeply than anyone he's ever met.

For the first time in ten centuries, Mon-El feels free. He made the right call. Kara did, too.

Finally, Mon-El knows that he didn't steal Kara's great love from her. It was there all along, and it's still there and it will always be there. They talk for much longer, but Mon-El doesn't need her words. He saw it in her eyes, in the joy that didn't waver even slightly. When he hugs her goodbye, he knows this is the last that he'll need to see her. He leaves her to her joy. 

He returns to his time to give Kara hers.

He doesn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so again — I know this won't be everyone's thing. I hated Mon-El in Season 2, but I really loved the way that they tried to develop his character, and I feel like giving him and Kara full resolution through their lifetimes is really important. I also think it validates Kara's character growth, because her feelings for Mon-El were a huge part of how she built as a person over those two seasons and I think they would really shape the way she would approach any future relationship. So yeah just pls don't come for me if you hate Mon-El.


End file.
